


Let it Snow, Let it Snow

by coolbreeze1



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Comment Fic, Earth, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbreeze1/pseuds/coolbreeze1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John's car breaks down in a snowstorm, he shows up on Dave's doorstep with Teyla and Torren to wait out the storm. A comment fic for one of the sgahcchallenge comment fic exchanges!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let it Snow, Let it Snow

It was pure chance that John, Teyla and Torren ended up stranded just outside of John’s hometown. Well, one of his hometowns. Three days of long meetings in DC talking to everyone from Homeworld Security to the Pentagon about Atlantis still floating in the Pacific had ended with the storm of the century. Their flight back to San Francisco had been canceled, and just about every other flight in the area canceled or delayed.

John pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache of the last few days ratchet up a notch. Teyla and Torren were both asleep in the back seat of the rental car, and John leaned back, tapping the steering wheel as he tried to figure out what to do. Ronon had gotten out of the whole thing because of his still healing stab wound, and Rodney had been called away on an urgent matter after the first day of meetings—although he’d been decidedly cryptic about the nature of the urgent matter and a little too gleeful as he’d waved goodbye. That had left John and Teyla and Torren, because Teyla was not about to let that child out of her sight and Kanaan had been felled by a nasty Earth-born cold virus the day after they’d (literally) hit the ocean, too sick to care for the boy on his own.

The storm had come from the south, blanketing Virginia and Maryland. John’s plan had involved driving the four or so hours north to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, since they had still been able to get planes out the last time he’d called, but that plan had died when their rental car had sputtered to a stop halfway there. He sighed, staring out the window toward a small diner across the street. Stuck. And here, of all places.

Torren coughed behind him, and he heard Teyla shift, shushing the child back to sleep. He turned around in his seat to look at her, knowing she would be awake enough to realize the car had stopped.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Teyla blinked open tired eyes and glanced around, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “Why have we stopped?”

John shrugged. “Car broke down. Won’t even turn over, and fiddling under the hood of a rental car in the middle of a winter storm…” He trailed off, and glanced again at the diner. Fat snowflakes were starting to drift down from unseen clouds above. “We can call for a taxi from the diner then get a motel for the night, but I’m afraid we’re not getting back to Atlantis tonight.”

Teyla nodded, and John recognized her look of resignation. She fought to change what she could but never did fret over the things out of her control. John liked to think he was the same way, but he wasn’t so sure about that sometimes. Teyla exuded calm the way Ronon radiated intensity and Rodney anxious brilliance.

“We can wait in the diner. It’ll be a little warmer in there.”

It didn’t take long for John to grab their bags and Teyla to grab Torren—now wide awake. The cab company promised a car within a half hour but laughed when John told them they needed a motel for the night. Something about a Christmas festival and all rooms in the entire town booked for the weekend. Vague memories of said festival flirted through his mind and he shook his head, pushing them away. He’d figure out where they could go once the cab arrived.

The cab arrived too soon, and the driver laughed again when John asked about motels. Not that John didn’t already know the answer. He’d made a few calls to the motels listed in the phone book and had gotten pretty much the same response. Not a single room for miles. He didn’t remember the festival being this popular when he was younger, but then again, he hadn’t really had to worry about getting a hotel room either. He’d lived here.

The answer came, grudgingly. There was only one place they could stay tonight. It was already well past ten o’clock, and he could feel the fatigue wearing him down. He dug his fingers into his temples to ease the pressure and gave the cabbie his brother’s address.

“Wow, nice pad,” the driver whistled as he pulled into the long driveway.

John shrugged, unzipping his jacket. The hot air blasting through the vent was starting to make him nauseous and he hoped to hell Dave agreed to let them stay for the night. If only the Daedalus had been around to beam them home—that would have solved all kinds of problems.

“This is a beautiful home,” Teyla whispered, bouncing Torren on her hip as they piled out of the car.

“Yeah,” John answered, not sure what he was supposed to say. He handed the cab driver his fare and waved him away, cringing at the man’s gawking stare, then hefted his and Teyla’s bags. He led the way up to the door, taking a deep breath before knocking. “I probably should have called him or something,” John muttered, not quite intending to say that out loud but, dammit, he was tired and his head hurt and the day just kept getting longer and longer.

Footsteps on the other side of the door signaled someone’s approach, faster than John was expecting, so when Dave opened the door, he stood there like a gaping fish for a moment, his mind going completely and utterly blank.

“John?”

“Um…” he started, then cleared his throat. “Hi, Dave.”

Dave stepped back, glancing at Teyla and Torren with wide eyes. “What are you…Is everything…um…”

“Sorry to show up like this, and I realize I should have called or something to give you some warning, but we were in DC and then our flight was canceled from the storm. We had a rental car, but that broke down and there’s that Christmas festival in town—” He slammed his jaw shut, hearing the stream of words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Not even Rodney rambled like that.

“What?” Dave still stood frozen in the doorframe, oblivious to the blast of cold air pouring into the house. John rubbed the back of his head, then dropped his hand when he realized he’d given in to one of his nervous ticks.

Torren broke the stalemate with a wailing cry, clearly having had enough of the brisk winter air. Dave shook his head—literally shook his head—and stepped back, signaling them to enter. He led them through the main hall to the large living room, leaving them to settle on the sofas while he darted back to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

The room was decorated exactly the way John remembered it being decorated when he’d been a kid. The same garlands and bows hanging from the windows, the same wreath over the fireplace, the same decorations on the large tree that always stood in the corner of the room throughout the holidays. Every holiday. If not for Teyla and Torren sitting next to him, he could almost believe he’d been transported back in time.

“Here you go,” Dave said, handing him and Teyla mugs of steaming coffee. John inhaled the scent before taking a long sip.

“Is it alright if we spend the night here? I hate to impose on you like this, but we’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Dave stared at John for a moment, and it wasn’t so much the expression in his face that caught John’s attention, but the lack of one. But a split second later, the moment was gone and Dave was nodding his head as he reached for his own cup of coffee. Torren slid from Teyla’s lap and crawled over to the tree and all its shiny ornaments.

“Of course, John.” He stared pointedly at Teyla for a moment.

John winced at the sudden elbow in his side from Teyla—man, he was really out of it tonight. “Sorry, this is Teyla and—” he pointed toward Torren now reaching up to grab one of the bulbs off the tree, “that’s Torren, about to fell your Christmas tree.”

Teyla jumped up, crossing the room and scooping up the small boy. “I am sorry,” she said, then smiled when Dave stood up and shook his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Dave answered, and John suddenly felt stupid being the only one still sitting on the couch. He pushed himself to his feet just as Teyla and Dave both returned to theirs, and he let himself drop back again with a barely controlled sigh.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, we ate just before we got here,” John answered. Kind of, at the diner. But none of them had been very hungry.

“Oh, alright.”

The room lapsed into silence again. Torren crawled across Teyla to John, pawing at his face until John flipped the child around and bounced him on his knee.

“Business good?” he asked, watching Dave watch Torren.

“Okay—well enough given the economy.”

Torren giggled, flapping his arms. Dave’s eyes slid from Torren to John to Teyla, then back to Torren again.

“How old is he?”

“Fourteen months,” Teyla answered.

“He’s cute.”

Torren arched his body, sliding off John’s knee back to the floor and heading again for the tree. John smiled at the exaggerated waddle as the boy tottered toward the tree, falling on his butt halfway there and crawling the rest of the way.

“So, you two work together?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, we’re on a…team. You remember Ronon?”

Dave frowned, his expression clearing a moment later. “Right.”

“Torren John!” Teyla cried out, and if John hadn’t been so tired he might have laughed at the look of shock on Dave’s face. Teyla jumped up, rescuing the bulb Torren had ripped from a low hanging branch and was about to pitch across the room (John had high hopes for that kid’s future quarterbacking years).

Dave stared at Torren—no, Torren _John_ —then Teyla, then his brother. John forced himself out of the sofa and made a move for their bags.

“We should probably turn in for the night,” John said. If Dave wanted to know… anything, then Dave was just going to have to outright ask. “The guest rooms at the top of the stairs okay?”

At Dave’s mute nod, he smiled and headed up the stairs, immensely satisfied at the state of utter bewilderment he’d left his brother in.

* * *

Teyla woke early to the sound of Torren screeching. She rolled across the bed to stare down at him, smiling at his sleep-wrinkled face. She and John had thrown a pile of blankets and pillows on the ground the night before—a safer option than sticking him on the bed. Torren kicked at the blanket, letting out another yell.

Six a.m. So far, Torren had proved himself to be as much a morning person as his father. Teyla sighed, forcing herself out of bed and scooping the child up before he screamed again and woke up the entire house. The previous day had been long, and she could have used another hour of sleep, but she smiled at her little boy, rubbing her nose against his until he giggled. He was a happy child, always had been—and she was eternally grateful for that.

She moved to the bathroom, grabbing a clean diaper on the way. Her and John’s room were linked by the shared bathroom, and she peaked through the door to make sure Torren hadn’t woken him up. His room looked almost exactly like hers, and she smiled at the sight of him sprawled in bed, snoring slightly.

She managed to keep Torren occupied in her room for over an hour before her own stomach growled with hunger. By then it was nearing eight o’clock, late enough that she might find someone in the kitchen downstairs. She checked on John one last time, noting he hadn’t moved, then padded her way downstairs, trying to remember which direction John’s brother had gone the night before when he’d gotten them coffee.

“Good morning,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. Dave looked up from his newspaper, hesitating a moment before smiling back.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“We did, thank you.”

Torren squawked, spurring Dave to get up from the table. He pushed a bowl of fruit toward Teyla, shifting awkwardly on his feet for a moment. Teyla watched him rub the back of his neck with his hand, reminding her of John and wondering if John had picked that habit up from Dave or Dave from John.

“Help yourself to anything,” Dave said, finally waving at the fruit. “I was going to make eggs and toast, if you’d like some.”

“That would be wonderful,” Teyla answered, and the look of relief on Dave’s face was one she’d seen on John’s many times.

“Coffee?”

“I would prefer tea, if you have it. Otherwise coffee is just fine.”

“Oh, I have tea.” Dave worked his way through the kitchen, busying himself as he prepared breakfast. He was different from John in many ways, and yet there was an uncanny family resemblance.

“Will…um…your son—”

“Torren.”

“Torren. Does he eat eggs or…,” Dave trailed off again, looking uncomfortable again. “I’m sorry—I haven’t spent a lot of time around kids.”

“That is fine,” Teyla answered, smiling. “He is very fond of bananas.”

The scent of breakfast filled the room, and Teyla moved to the table. Large windows overlooked a sloping field, covered with a thick layer of fresh snow. Clouds still hovered ominously, promising more snow later in the day.

“Looks like you brought that storm with you,” Dave said, setting plates of food and a mug of tea for her on the table then sitting down. “Is John…uh…?”

It had taken her months, if not years, to figure out all of John’s expressions and mannerism, to know when he was happy or relaxed, in pain or uncomfortable or just tired. A flush of red crept up Dave’s neck, and she wondered if John’s reactions were an accurate measurement of Dave’s feelings too. “He is still asleep,” she answered, and Dave’s blush tinged his cheeks.

She grabbed a banana, peeling it and cutting it up into small pieces for Torren. “This is a beautiful view,” she said, pointing out the window and hoping the change of topic would put Dave at ease.

His demeanor shifted immediately as he glanced out the window, at once relaxing. “You should see it in the summer. There’s a lake at the bottom of the hill, near that copse of trees. If we had ice skates, it’s solid enough—”

He was interrupted by a shuffling step behind them, and Teyla turned to see John, still half asleep, walk into the room dressed in track pants and an old t-shirt. “Morning,” he rasped. He cleared his throat and dropped into the chair next to Teyla.

Dave’s eyes danced with amusement, and he stood to pour another cup of coffee. Torren lunged from Teyla’s arms toward John, and John grabbed him, rubbing his back as he stared out the window. His hair was sticking up more than usual, and dark circles ringed his eyes.

“Are you alright, John?” Teyla asked, quietly.

“Yeah,” John said, turning away from the window. “Still waking up, I guess. Sorry to sleep in on you like that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, but perhaps you can get Torren to eat the rest of his breakfast.”

“Coffee?” Dave asked, setting a mug in front of John without waiting for a reply.

Teyla managed to engage Dave in conversation for the rest of breakfast, talking to him about his home, his work, the town, and the Christmas festival taking place. John fed Torren, drinking his coffee and picking at the orange he’d grabbed from the fruit basket. While they ate, snow began falling again, turning to a white-out blizzard seemingly minutes later.

By the time Teyla had packed up her suitcase, John had called around to the nearby airports and found the flights were still only slowly making their way off the runways. Their only option was to go to the nearest airport and wait it out—maybe for hours. When Dave offered to let them stay an extra day or two until the storm blew over, John gave in right away, the tension draining from his shoulders leaving him looking more exhausted than before.

She got the distinct impression that Dave hadn’t expected John to say yes to his offer, but he went with it, promising Teyla a tour of the town if the snow let up a little. He also hinted at a number of childhood stories involving John and his various mishaps, to which John glared but said little.

In fact, he’d hardly said a word all morning. She knew his relationship with Dave had been strained for many years, but she also knew him, and worry niggled at her. This silent brooding wasn’t John, and Dave seemed as equally perplexed by his brother’s behavior.

The snow finally cleared about midday, and Dave’s enthusiasm at showing Teyla the town was infectious. John politely declined to come along, saying he was going to lay down for a bit and relax. Teyla could see the lines of pain tightening around his eyes, and she guessed the headache he must be fighting off was a bad one.

The town was small but thriving with shopper’s and festival goers. The Christmas holiday was only four days away, and the streets were brightly decorated with bows and wreaths and lights. A large man dressed in a red suit sent Torren into a sobbing fit, to which Dave laughed and said he did that to all the kids.

They returned home a couple of hours later, Torren with a shiny green rubber ball that looked exactly like the Christmas tree bulb he’d been going for the night before (“To save the tree,” Dave had said when he’d given the child his gift), and Teyla with a little deeper understanding of Earth and of John’s roots.

“Honey, we’re home,” Dave called out, his own spirits high, and Teyla wondered how much time he spent relaxing with friends, or if he buried himself in his work the way John did.

The house was quiet as they trudged through the hall, and Teyla was the first to spot John laying on the couch, sound asleep. Torren squirmed out of her grasp at the sight of him, and Teyla set him down with a frown. John looked paler than before, and exhausted even in sleep. The worry that had niggled at her before blossomed into full-blown concern.

“John?” she called out, sitting on the edge of the coffee table and leaning toward him. Close up, his skin was pasty, his lips dry and cracked. She shook his arm, careful to stay out of swinging range if he woke up confused.

He didn’t wake up. She shook a little harder, calling out to him again. When she glanced up at Dave, she saw his face fall.

“John, wake up,” she commanded. She squeezed his arm, pinching the skin and finally eliciting a groan.

“Teyla?” he mumbled.

Torren had finally crawled over to the sofa and he smacked John on the leg. John flinched, rolling onto his side and squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’ve got him,” Dave said before Teyla could move. He stepped around the couch and scooped her son up in his arms.

Teyla pressed a hand into John’s forehead, frowning at the heat that pouring off of him. She’d known he’d had a headache for the last couple of days, but whatever he’d been trying to fight off had gotten the jump on him at last. “John, what’s wrong?”

John sighed, forcing his eyes open. “Sorry, don’t feel well.”

“I can see that. What’s wrong?”

“Headache, hot. Stomach feels off.”

Teyla nodded then turned to Dave. “Do you have Tylenol or Ibuprofen?”

Dave scurried off to get the medicine, still holding a happily babbling Torren. Teyla leaned forward again, leaving a hand on John’s shoulder. “You will rest better in bed. Can you stand?”

John groaned. “This sucks,” he muttered.

* * *

Dave forgot he was holding the kid—Torren _John_ —until he was digging through the medicine cabinet with one hand and caught sight of the boy in the mirror. He stared at him for a moment, looking for any resemblance to his namesake—well, middle name. He clearly looked like his mother, but John, not so much.

John had slyly refused to say anything more about his relationship with Teyla other than they worked together, but they were obviously close. Dave had worked with some women in his office for years, but there’s no way he’d be driving around the country with any of them, let alone staying with their families—even just for the day.

He never figured his brother for a family man, especially after his marriage to Nancy had fallen apart, but he’d never seen John so at ease with anyone else, not like he was with Teyla. He was good with the kid, too. Comfortable holding him and bouncing him, and feeding him messy, mashed up bananas. He’d caught John and Teyla exchanging looks with each other, and it wasn’t that they screamed that they were in love or even dating, and yet…

He shook his head. John wasn’t going to tell him anything, and Dave was too courteous to broach the subject with Teyla. If she was aware of Dave’s curiosity, she wasn’t giving any sign of it. Maybe she was too courteous to bring it up too.

Torren screeched, kicking him in the stomach and jarring him out of his thoughts. Whatever. Not only had his brother shown up on his doorstep in the middle of the night needing a place to stay, but he’d brought a woman and her son—their son? No, he shook his head—too, and now John was sick.

He was almost relieved, actually, that John was sick. His brother had been brooding and quiet all morning, reminding Dave all too much of those last few years John had lived here, each run-in with their father a spark to the pile of fuel they’d both built up around them. Dave had tried to stay out of the explosive fights as much as possible and had been guiltily relieved when John had finally left for the Air Force Academy.

But they’d been close once, as kids. Romping through the fields and woods around this home, exploring New York City when Dad had dragged them there for business. John had loved the house in Maui the most, and Dave had been a willing partner in more than their fair share of adventures along the beach and in the thick tropical forests of the mountains around them.

He grabbed the Tylenol and the Ibuprofen, then put the Ibuprofen back on the shelf. Tylenol would do. Torren was aching to be set down, so Dave hurried back to the living room in time to see Teyla pulling his brother out of the sofa then catching him when he started to sway.

“John!” Dave called out, setting Torren on the ground. The boy immediately crawled toward the Christmas tree, and he did kind of look like John.

John’s legs folded underneath him and Teyla guided him in a controlled drop back to the sofa. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Little dizzy.”

“That’s alright, John. Take your time,” Teyla soothed. She brushed his hair back from his forehead, and there it was again—that closeness. They didn’t just work together. They couldn’t.

Dave darted to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and returning to the living room to find John leaning back on the sofa with his arm over his eyes. Teyla had pulled Torren away from the tree, giving him the rubber ball instead and successfully distracting him.

“I’ve got some Tylenol,” Dave said, holding out the glass of water and the bottle. John fumbled with the bottle for a moment until Dave took it back and opened the cap, dumping two pills into his brother’s palm.

“Thanks,” John answered, swallowing the pills then reaching for the water. A moment later, he pushed himself to his feet, grabbing onto Dave in the process. He swayed, and Dave wrapped an arm around John’s waist in a tight grip.

“I’m okay,’ John said.

Dave laughed. Now that sounded like John. “Hardly,” Dave said. “Let’s go.” He led his brother through the house and up the stairs, moving slowly enough to make sure John kept up. By the time they reached the guest room, John was shaking. He collapsed into the bed and immediately curled up, oblivious to Dave pulling the blankets over him then changing his mind and flinging all but a thin sheet off of him.

Teyla had followed him into the room, and she sat on the edge of the bed, resting the back of her hand against John’s cheek. Dave turned away, not sure if he should be witness to so intimate a moment. There it was again—something more between these two than either of them had so far let on. He glanced around the room, spotting John’s suitcase on the loveseat against the wall. Only John’s suitcase. So, separate rooms then?

“He is asleep,” Teyla said, standing up. Dave nodded, looking behind her to see his brother dead to the world, his jaw slack. He really did look sick.

“Right,” Dave said, leading the way out of the room. Teyla closed the door behind her, leaving it slightly ajar and the two of them made their way back downstairs.

And what the hell was he supposed to do with this woman and her son now? Teyla was kind and beautiful—God, she was gorgeous—but Dave had work to do. He hadn’t planned on entertaining his sick brother or his sick brother’s girlfriend, friend, whatever. Wife? He glanced at her hand where a wedding ring should be and saw nothing. John would have told him if he’d gotten married again, wouldn’t he?

The afternoon passed slowly. When Teyla took Torren upstairs for a nap, she didn’t come back down, and Dave found her sitting by John’s bedside, reading. He retreated to his office, forcing himself to get a bit of work done. When his stomach started to growl with hunger, he wandered past John’s room on his way down the stairs to fix dinner, wondering if Teyla was still sitting next to him.

She wasn’t just sitting next to him; she was hanging on to him as he retched and gagged in the bathroom. He seemed only half awake and like he would have fallen head first into the toilet without her keeping him upright. His head hung on his neck, and he breathed heavily through his nose.

“He will not stop throwing up,” Teyla said when she saw Dave standing in the doorway. “I fear he’s is becoming badly dehydrated.”

Dave glanced out the window, and even through the darkness he could see the storm had picked up again. Teyla looked up at him, and for the first time since they’d met (albeit it was only the night before), she looked unsure of herself or what to do.

Dave fished through the drawer next to the sink, pulling out a thermometer. John had stopped gagging for the moment, and Teyla eased him back, letting his head rest against her shoulder. Dave held the thermometer in his brother’s mouth, knowing the fever was going to be high. John’s cheeks were flushed red, while the rest of his skin looked gray, and Dave could feel the heat radiating from him.

John blinked open glassy eyes, staring at him. Dave turned away from the look, willing the thermometer to hurry up and take its reading already. A memory of his father, looking washed out and half dead like John was looking now flashed through his mind. His father had always looked like that the first day or two after his first couple of heart attacks. Glassy eyes staring, seeing but not seeing.

The thermometer beeped, and Dave pulled it out. It was one of those electronic ones, and he stared at the digital display in shock.

“103, even,” he said. And that was high—too high. “We should maybe take him in—there’s a hospital just down the road.”

John twisted in Teyla’s arms, gagging again. She leaned forward, supporting his head as his stomach rebelled again, but he’d long since thrown up anything he had in his stomach. She glanced at Dave and nodded, looking relieved at his suggestion.

It took both of them to worm John’s limp arms into his coat and then manhandle him to the garage. John was all but unconscious as Dave strapped him in. Teyla left then returned a few moments later, Torren bundled up and holding onto his green ball with a death grip. The roads were as bad as Dave had feared, but he’d taken his SUV for just that reason.

Hours later, Dave sat in a chair next to John, dozing lightly but waking up every few minutes to stare at the soft rise and fall of his brother’s chest. Per the local doctor, it was a flu. A bad flu, but still, just a flu. They’d given John something to quiet his stomach and fight the fever, and IV fluids were dealing with the dehydration. Already John looked better.

The hospital relatively empty, so John’s semi-private room was theirs for the moment. Teyla was stretched out in the bed next to John’s, sleeping. Torren lay curled up against his mother, and Dave had to admit, he really didn’t look anything like John.

His brother groaned as he shifted in the bed. He cracked open his eyes and stared at the ceiling in confusion.

“Hey,” Dave whispered, wary of waking Teyla. It had taken a lot of coaxing for him to finally get the woman to lay down.

John looked over at Dave, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Dave?”

“Yeah,” Dave said, smiling. “Thanks for dropping in on me unannounced and then getting sick as a dog.”

John groaned, rubbing at his stomach.

“You okay?”

“Feel like crap,” John answered.

“Well, it’s just the flu. But if I get sick because of you…”

John smiled, just a faint upturn at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry. Hospital?”

“It’s a really bad flu and they wanted to keep you for the night, which brings me back to my original statement. If you get me sick, I will be seriously pissed off.”

John looked over to the other side of the room, his eyes darting around the room until they finally rested on Teyla and Torren. “They okay?”

“They’re fine—just tired. It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

“Hmmm…”

John relaxed, not an easy task for someone already lying limp in bed. He looked like he was ready to fall asleep again. Now or never.

“So,” Dave started, leaning in closer when John opened heavy lids to look at him. “You and Teyla—”

“She’s my teammate, nothing more.”

“You’re not…you know…”

John sighed, shaking his head. “We’re not.”

“And Torren _John_?”

“ _Dave._ ”

Okay, maybe he was pushing it a little. If John wasn’t so sick, he’d probably have him by the throat. He held up his hands in surrender. “It’s cool, I just thought that if the two of you are not…” he waved his hand, “…and she’s available…”

How John managed to pull off the look of death while lying in a hospital bed, Dave did not know. But he was a smart man. It had been awhile since he and his brother had spent a lot of time together, and John wasn’t the boy Dave once knew, but Dave knew when to stop pushing. He smiled, shaking his head.

“She’s taken,” John whispered, sinking back into pillow and letting his eyes drift close. A moment later his breathing evened out in sleep.

“Whatever you say, brother. Whatever you say.”

END


End file.
